


When the Reaping Comes

by thequeergiraffe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death's POV, M/M, so don't stress out too much over that, the archive warning refers to God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeergiraffe/pseuds/thequeergiraffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You will be missed, of course."</p><p>He'd meant by the angels, and by men too, but it still pleased him when God cracked one eye and peeked at Death coyly. "By you?"</p><p>"Most of all, by me," Death said, smiling. It was a silly game they played, hiding their truths inside taunts and teases, but they'd been playing it since time immemorial.</p><p>"Good." God nodded and hopped down from the fence, brushing at the seat of his pants. He reached down and plucked a dandelion from among the weeds, twirling it between his fingers. "To remember me by," he said, handing it to Death with false solemnity.</p><p>Death watched the little flower wither in his palm. "I'll keep it forever," he said, even as it crumbled and disappeared in a breeze.<br/>---</p><p>"Life, death; chicken, egg. Regardless - at the end, I'll reap him, too."</p><p>Just a little one-shot about God and Death's relationship near the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Reaping Comes

It had been a long while, even by their standards, since the last time they'd met. God was sitting on a drooping fence railing, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in wax paper and watching the no-see-ums buzzing in the thick, humid summer air. The face he'd chosen was a kind and honest sort, the brown eyes he turned up towards Death's lined with wrinkles that made him look as though he'd spent his whole life smiling.

Death approved of the new look. It had a been a long time, yes, but Death still remember the face God wore the last time they'd met, and the many he'd taken before that. It seemed he'd stumbled upon God in a rare good mood, this time. Kindliness was not always God's most obvious feature.

"Nice day, ain't it," God said pleasantly, as Death leaned against the fence beside him. He licked a clump of jelly from his thumb and squinted out to the fields beyond, where men sang low and steady as they worked. "Could use some rain, but beggars can't be choosers."

"I think it's perfect," Death said, admiring God's creation with a small smile. He looked over at God, who was watching him with feigned casualness. "How have you been, old friend?"

"Tired." God folded the wax paper and tucked it carefully into the front pocket of his overalls. "I've been considering retirement." Catching Death's startled look, God laughed, throwing his head back and catching the railing with his hands to keep from tipping over. "No, I'm not ready to take that last long walk with you, my friend," he said slowly, his eyes back on Death's and dancing with amusement. "Not yet."

"But soon," Death said calmly. It wasn't a question, and neither of them treated it like it was. For a moment they were both quiet, listening to the men singing in the field. "What will you do with your free time, I wonder? I always thought that, should I be afforded the luxury, I would spend my own retirement writing culinary critiques."

God laughed again. He was in exceptionally high spirits, for a man about to abandon his children. "I would enjoy reading those, I think. Your obsession with deep-fried foodstuff has always interested me." He sighed and leaned back on the railing, tipping his face up to the sun and letting his eyes fall closed. "I thought I'd try playing at human for awhile. Maybe spend a couple of lifetimes here among my flock."

"Oh?" Death considered that for a moment. He couldn't understand the appeal, but he wouldn't say as much. Instead, he said, "You will be missed, of course."

He'd meant by the angels, and by men too, but it still pleased him when God cracked one eye and peeked at Death coyly. "By you?"

"Most of all, by me," Death said, smiling. It was a silly game they played, hiding their truths inside taunts and teases, but they'd been playing it since time immemorial.

"Good." God nodded and hopped down from the fence, brushing at the seat of his pants. He reached down and plucked a dandelion from among the weeds, twirling it between his fingers. "To remember me by," he said, handing it to Death with false solemnity.

Death watched the little flower wither in his palm. "I'll keep it forever," he said, even as it crumbled and disappeared in a breeze. They watched each other for a moment, wordless sentiment passing between them as easily as water passed under a bridge. Then, tiredly, Death asked: "I'll see you again soon, I hope?"

"Oh, I imagine so," God answered vaguely. "Soon enough, old friend." He was gone a moment later. Death didn't even need to look up to see the empty space where God had stood; he could feel his absence keenly, like someone had reached inside him and plucked out something essential, a part of himself whose loss he would mourn with every breath.

For several long minutes Death stood alone against the fence, the Louisiana sunshine beating down upon his back, and listened to the sound of the men tilling the field and the bugs buzzing in the tall grass at his feet. Then, he too disappeared.

\---

They met again some time later, in a quiet windswept park in America's Midwest. God was dressed as an old man, tired blue eyes peering up at Death from underneath thick, furrowed brows. He was playing a game of chess all alone, a beat-up cane lying forlornly on the grass beside him.

Death slid into the empty seat across from him and leaned his elbows on the edge of the table, settling his chin in his hands. "You look well," he lied. "How have you enjoyed humanity thus far?"

God's smile brought a flash of youth to his eyes. "Okay," he said, simply. The board shuffled itself, the pieces flying to their starting positions, and he gestured for Death to begin.

They played in silence for awhile, each of them perfectly familiar with the rhythm of the other's gameplay. Eventually, when they were finally entrenched in less predictable territory, God elaborated as he puzzled over his next move. "The thing about humans," he said, passing his fingers over his rook and just as quickly changing his mind, "is that they  _crave_."

"Crave what?" Death asked, smirking at God's indecision.

"Everything." God moved his piece, and swore softly as Death claimed it easily. He sat back and looked the board over warily, rubbing at the gray stubble speckling his chin. "Love, sex, wealth, power. They want stability, and yet they desire adventure. They long for family, yet they dream of freedom. Most of them pray for me, and yet some of them pray for you, too. And the way they crave  _each other_..." He shook his head and moved a pawn forward slowly, watching Death's face for a flicker of a tell. "It's lonely, being human. I don't remember writing that into their coding, you know?"

Death laughed and tapped his fingers on the table, contemplating the board. "As I recall, you once considered that their most integral characteristic. You wanted them to love you, not out of duty, but of their own free will."

"More the fool, me," God sighed. "Love hurts."

"A succinct summation of the human experience, I should think," Death quipped, sliding his queen forward. "Check."

"Damn," God said, sitting forward and looking the board over anew. "How are things?" he asked after a short silence, reaching towards the board only to draw his hand back again. "Upstairs, I mean."

"Your absence is widely mourned," Death answered, not a little bitterly. He thought of what would happen if  _he_  took a few lifetimes off work, and frowned at the mental image of people rejoicing in the streets.

God gave him a long, considering glance. "You should try this," he said, moving his piece out of check at last. "Retirement."

Laughing ruefully, Death shook his head. "And watch the universe descend into chaos? No, I rather think not. My work, it would seem, is never-ending." He sent another piece after God's king. "Check."

"Are you sure?" God teased. "I could set us up somewhere nice. Maybe...San Francisco, 1972? Right across the street from that doughnut shop you like?" He moved his king and smiled broadly. "We could get a dog. What do you think?"

Death pointed at him, a teasingly serious look on his face. "Don't tempt me." He looked the board over briefly, then clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Checkmate," he said, capturing God's king. "That wasn't your best game, my friend."

There wasn't anything playful about the sad, solemn look God gave Death then. "I don't like to see you lose," he said softly, like a portent of things to come. A shiver wended its way down Death's spine.

\---

When all was said and done, the i's dotted and the t's crossed, Death went down to the beach where he was to meet God for the last time.

It didn't surprise him to find a child sitting at the edge of the water, watching the waves rush up and swirl around his toes. Of course God would choose to be a child now; he was always such a sentimentalist.

He went to God's side and looked down at the face that turned up towards his, at the wide, wet eyes and the smattering of freckles bridging his nose. "Are you ready?" he asked quietly, despite himself.

God turned away, watching a seagull dive and twist in a current of air. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Death replied. It would hurt them both, he was sure.

"Will you stay with me?" God asked, looking up at Death once more.

Death nodded. "To the end."

God held his gaze for a moment, then stretched out his hand. Death took it gently, helping God to his feet, and smiled as God brushed the sand from his clothes. They set off at a slow pace, following the curve of the beach and listening to the roar of the water. And when it was time, when the moment could not be pushed aside any longer, Death took God's hand in his once more and walked with him into the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Realizing now that the end of this a bit Potteresque, no? They say all writers are thieves...The likeness was unintentional but fuck it, I like HP enough that I'm okay with the influence, haha.


End file.
